


PrimRose

by stroke_of_genius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pesterlog, Pre-Sburb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-12 05:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20558930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stroke_of_genius/pseuds/stroke_of_genius
Summary: Alternate titles include, but are not limited to: ‘Ear Static,’ ‘The Resurrection Symphony,’ ‘A Study in Linguistics,’ and ‘Confronting The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known’





	PrimRose

Sometimes, when Rose lays across her bed and stretches her arms out wide, she hears static. She imagines some sort of extraterrestrial being, fiddling with its radio millions of light years away, trying to get in contact with her. Trying to tell her that she’s the link between their worlds and has the gift of communicating with them telepathically.

Later, when her mom catches her trying to sneak food from the kitchen and ropes her into a conversation, she mentions the ear static. Rose doesn’t talk about the aliens, because she knows better at age thirteen than to believe in those sorts of things, or at the very least acknowledge out loud that she may have, for a second, thought it was true. Her mother just frowns at her and says to stop listening to music so loudly.

Rose goes back upstairs with her microwave dinner, puts in her iPod's earbuds, and raises the volume to max. She listens to music like this and eats her food for a few minutes, before lowering the volume and falling back on her bed. Because it’s childish to defy her mother at every turn, and even though nobody is around to notice, she feels like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Except instead of her mother looking down on her tiny form with its face covered in crumbs, it’s an older Rose, a prim Rose. A woman who is in control of everything but most of all herself.

Her laptop pings with a notification, and she rolls to the side of her bed to reach down and grab it. The ear static returns, but no alien voice fills her head. She opens the laptop, and sees a notification from Jade.

It’s been a few years since the two of them met, but Jade is still by far the most elusive of Rose’s friends. The boys were easy to figure out, and Rose regularly tries out new psychoanalysis methods and theories on them, then pats herself on the back for predicting their reactions’ correctly. Jade, though… Jade was a strange mixture of enthusiastic and aloof. Like she was simultaneously giving all of herself and none at all. Rose clicks on her icon.

\-- gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] \-- 

GG: hey rose!   
GG: sorry if im bothering you  
TT: I’m here, and you’re not a bother.  
TT: Do you need something?  
GG: i dunno  


Rose waits a moment, expecting Jade to continue. They play a game of chicken (or, at least, Rose plays a game of chicken) until she breaks and responds.

TT: While I know you delight in the vague, that comment seemed more of the melancholy variety than the standard cheeky.  
GG: you like reading and writing and stuff right?  
TT: Correct.  
GG: i dont really know why i asked when i know youre super smart and you send me snippets from your cool wizard book!

_You were reaffirming a fact of reality to your subconscious,_ Rose thinks. _People are ever changing, and I’m someone known to make people feel small for being incorrect._ Yes. She was completely in control.

GG: anyways you seem like youd know more than me about what ‘need’ means  
TT: Are you asking me the definition of a word most toddlers know?  
GG: im asking for your personal take! you like being super deep and smart heres your chance!!!  
TT: When you word it that way, how can I resist such an appeal to my pride? Simultaneously a stroke of ego and a challenge to prove my worth. You are a wily one, Jade Harley.  
GG: :D  
TT: Well, in the purely denotative sense, it means require. You must have it to function at a base level. I’d surmise you know that already.  
GG: yep :)  
TT: Good; I’d be concerned if the answer was no. ‘Need’ as we are referring to is more ephemeral. It’s common practice to use it as a synonym for want. Again, as I’m sure you’re aware.  
GG: grandpa got mad at me all the time for saying i needed to go outside or needed new supplies :/  
GG: and no offense rose but why are you telling me things you know i know!  
TT: I’m laying a foundation. Allow me to build upon my deftly poured metaphorical concrete before criticizing the formula.  
GG: sorry  
TT: The point I was building to was that language means only what we want it to. Every word was created solely to express some aspect of the human condition. This means language is simultaneously limiting and limitless.  
TT: So a definition of a word and all its connotations vary from individual to individual. Basically, it’s meaningless to ask me what my personal perception of the word ‘need’ is, since the slight differences in our perspectives are too minute and nebulous to be properly conveyed through words, each of which share the dilemma of skewed idiosyncratic interpretation.  
GG: thats not very helpful :(  
TT: A cryptic question exacts a vague answer.  
TT: I suppose I’m also guilty of my initial question not being precise.  
TT: Allow me to try again: did you contact me for a particular purpose?  
GG: kinda? i guess i felt like we should talk more! i feel like i dont really know you super well  
GG: wait thats not right its more like i know lots of facts about you but not really how you feel about things  
GG: am i making any sense lol  
TT: You are. I feel similarly, actually.  
GG: oh?  
TT: Did you not expect that?  
GG: i didnt think you ever really thought about me if im being totally honest!  
GG: like… i thought you tolerated me at best heh  
TT: I apologize for misleading you to believe I was apathetic towards your emotions. If I may inquire, was there something in particular I did?  
TT: While I’m self aware enough to admit my demeanor may come across as cold at times, I’ve attempted to always include and confide in you.  


She rereads her messages and cringes. Jumping to defensiveness is a habit she needs to shake. She sounds like her mother, desperately seeking validation.

GG: oh its not your fault i was probably just reading too much into things! i guess its like... sometimes it seems like youre a little more open with john and dave than with me?  
TT: I could say the same about you.  
GG: oh yeah i guess youre right but like thats sorta my point!  
GG: weve known each other long enough i dont wanna feel like we’re putting up walls when the other is around!!!  


Rose frowns at the presumption that she was ever vulnerable around Dave or John. Her guard is up against everyone. She is fierce, untouchable Rose. The princess who looks down at all from her tower. So why does Jade think something else?

TT: Did something spark this sudden desire for deep friendship?  
GG: its not sudden! I was just too scared to message you about it before now :(  
GG: but also…. yeah i guess  
GG: is it cool if i get a little um personal  
TT: What are friends for?  
GG: :,)  
GG: i always feel guilty complaining because i know im really lucky!!  
GG: ive always had more than i needed and tons of resources most kids wouldnt have access to for like making cool machines and stuff  
GG: that includes computers and internet to talk to all of you guys!! who i love!!!!!  
TT: Whom.  
GG: what?  
TT: Nothing, continue.  
GG: uh okay  
GG: anyways so i know im privileged  
GG: but  
GG: its hard feeling trapped here  
GG: i feel like the universe is playing a mean trick! most people would think this place is paradise  
GG: which i guess it is  
GG: but its solitary paradise :(  
GG: grandpa has been dead so long ive forgotten what it feels like to even be around another person  
GG: and one day ideally ill leave and come be with you and dave and john  
GG: but then i think… will that be much better?  
GG: then ill just be the freak island girl who doesn’t know anything about being ‘normal’  
GG: what if its just a different type of isolation? except this time i wont have any plan or hope to make everything magically better  


Rose blinks, surprised. She’s not sure she has ever seen Jade be legitimately upset. Comforting others is not high on Rose’s list of skills, and she finds herself at a loss for how to respond.

TT: I wish that was a problem I could help with.  
TT: That sounded sarcastic but for once I’m being sincere. I’m sorry, Jade.  
GG: its not your fault lol! i just figured you might um  
GG: understand  
TT: It would be disrespectful to your hardships to compare our scenarios.  
GG: maybe! but i dunno you always talk about how you live in the middle of the woods and go for months without really talking to your mom  
GG: i know you mean it in like a joking ‘im above you petty mortals!’ way but… i thought maybe it was more  
GG: that it couldve been a cry for help  


Rose stares at her screen. She reads the words, but does not allow herself to process them. There is a long hallway in her mind, and she opens one of the thick oak doors to throw this conversation inside.

TT: I’m not lonely, if that is what you’re implying. And my distant relationship with my mother is very much by my own desire and choice. While I feel for your situation, it is not healthy to project your problems onto others.  
TT: My apologies, but I must go.  
GG: wait!  


Rose slams the cover of her laptop shut, decidedly not spending the time it would take to click the _Exit Chat_ button. She shoves the computer under her bed, not wanting to look at it, and ignores the notification alerts pinging.

She has been spending too much time online anyways. A few days away will do her good. She looks around the room, and her violin case in the corner calls to her.

Rose pushes off her bed to go retrieve it, clicking the case’s clasps open and retrieving the bow. She spends a minute tightening and rosining it, focusing all of her thoughts on those actions, then lifts the violin out of its case with her left hand.

She sets the instrument on her shoulder, and the familiar sensation of chin and shoulder rests comfortably locking into place against her bring an accompanying sense of calm. Playing violin is something Rose can do.

She runs the bow across each string, tuning to the best of her ability by ear. She doesn’t feel like getting her tuner out, and the instrument sounds mostly fine from when she played the night before.

Setting her bow down on her dresser for a moment, she leans down to the case and pulls out some loose sheet music. It’s Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 in C Minor for first violin, which she attained and printed through dubious means. She figures the old guy won’t mind too much from the grave.

Rose probably should warm up first, but she’s feeling impatient and wants to lose herself in something. She sets her bow, takes a breath, and plays the opening chord.

It comes out sour, making her cringe. Well, that’s what she gets for not warming up. Rose has never had a formal violin teacher, so she imagines Mahler himself shaking his head at her. She adjusts her fingers and tries again. This time the notes are right, but her grip is too tense and the tremolo comes out stilted and harsh.

Clenching her jaw, Rose sets down the bow, shakes out her hand, then picks it up and starts again at the beginning. After playing the first four measures more or less correctly (her dynamic contrast could’ve been better, but nobody is around to impress) she skips ahead to measure 22, taking it below tempo.

On the second triplet she hits a note wrong and lets out a noise of disgust and frustration. She should keep playing through it, but she’s angry at the world and especially Mahler wherever his decaying body lay, so she packs up the violin and paces around her room.

Who does Jade think she is? Rose is her own therapist; who can have a better understanding of her than herself? Nobody! Countless forced visits to counselors and psychiatrists had more than proven that. Nobody is entitled to Rose’s feelings or thoughts; she can handle them perfectly capably on her own. If Rose’s _own mom_ and countless professionals couldn’t understand her, then Jade Harley, a girl with next to no experience talking with real people, sure as hell can’t!

Rose grabs her microwave dinner off the bed and begins furiously shoveling the rest of it into her mouth. The food is cold and unappetizing, but that doesn’t stop her from devouring it in a minute.

She needs fresh air. How long has it been since she went outside? She leaves the flimsy plastic tray on her dresser and heads downstairs.

The petulant child mentally grappling with her over her emotions wants to stomp loudly, but Rose is _bigger_ than that dammit, so she quietly creeps down the stairs and out the back door.

She’s immediately enveloped in warmth. It’s summer, and the humidity presses down on her skin. Many of the books she reads are fond of describing this sort of weather as oppressive, but she always found it comforting, if bad for her hair.

Rose finds shade under a tree and sits there, soaking in the heat. She should have brought a book or a journal, something to keep her mind from wandering, but the weather has made her lazy and she no longer wants to move.

She closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of birds chirping and the rushing waterfalls. Yes, the heat is really more like a blanket than anything else. Wrapping her up and rocking her to sleep…

* * *

_There are so many Roses of different heights and age, all standing on a cliff bickering with one another. The few who aren’t arguing stand out: baby Roses who can’t yet speak and a solitary teenager, who is dressed in purple and sleeping on the ground. Besides them, everyone’s mouths are moving with expressions conveying annoyance, but there’s no coherent sound coming out of their mouths. It’s just static, a distant hum of radio interference. Rose (one of the Roses, the one who can not see her own face but looks down and sees hands), tries to grab onto any of the figures surrounding her, but her fingers pass through as if they were ghosts. She needs to know what they’re talking about, but it is some foreign language she can not understand. She just wants to know. Is that so much to ask? A new sound joins the static: crickets. Where are they? There’s no grass around here for them hide in-_

* * *

Rose wakes up, disoriented. Where is she? Why is it dark? She feels something crawling on her leg and shouts, slapping it.

The events of the day come back to her, as well as the hazy remnants of a dream, and she stands up in a hurry. The chirping she heard when she came out here hours ago is gone, replaced with the sound of crickets and cicadas trying to scream over each other in a cacophonous symphony. Rose moves out from under the trees to look up at the sky. The moon is a crescent, barely illuminating the woods. There’s no light coming from her house, which means it’s either very late or her mom went out.

She starts walking towards the door, staring up at the night. One of the benefits of where she lives is that the stars shine brightly year round. It always makes her feel suffocated when she visits bigger cities, like the sky was a solid black box instead of an escape.

_Jade probably sees even better stars than these,_ she thinks, then feels guilty. She may have overreacted a smidgen in her conversation with Jade. _Why did I get so upset? It’s not as if Jade attacked me in any way._ She immediately shoves that question away along with random terms from her psychology books like _defense mechanism_ and _denial._ She’ll think about that later.

Rose reaches the back door and pulls it open quickly to avoid any loud creaking. She quietly shuts it behind her and finds the electronic clock on the stove. It reads 10:26, and she sighs in relief. That gives her plenty of time to get things done before sunrise.

Even better, that’s still too early for her mom to be in bed, which means she went out, hopefully for the whole night. The light from the clock allows her to see there has been no note left behind. Rose doesn’t know why she even looked.

Not bothering to turn the light switch on, she goes through the halls and up the stairs by memory, rushing to her room.

Here she turns on the light. Rose stands in her room for a moment, debating with herself, before grabbing her laptop from its hiding spot and plopping on her bed.

Rose doesn’t read the messages Jade sent before leaving the chat, just quickly exits out before curiosity gets the better of her. But she does check to see if Jade is online and starts a new chat with her, free of any evidence of their prior conversation.

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \-- 

TT: Hello Jade.  
TT: I have a question, though it is a bit more of the romantic nature than my typical ones, so brace yourself.  
TT: What are the stars like where you live?  
TT: Wow. I feel like the mildly sympathetic if vapid protagonist of a tug-on-your-heartstrings summer blockbuster already.  
GG: oh hey rose!  
GG: are you feeling better??  
TT: I don’t know what you’re referring to.  
TT: I’m wondering because they’re rather nice here, but considering your house is the only source of light pollution on the entirety of your island, they’re probably especially breathtaking.  
GG: uh what???  
TT: The stars.  
GG: oh! you did ask about them huh I didn’t even notice hehe  
GG: theyre pretty cool :)  


Rose frowns at the generic reply.

TT: Yes, well. I suppose that is exactly the response I should have predicted.  
TT: I don’t really know why I asked. You’re more interested in the biology side of science, are you not.  
GG: not necessarily! physics too!! and whatever strikes my fancy i dont discriminate :P  
GG: i’m just used to the stars i guess, i thought they were pretty much the same everywhere?  
TT: Yes and no. Us mainlanders have done a spectacular job of ruining the nocturnal tapestry. On the other hand, I do think poetry has made my astral sentiments take on a more fanciful perspective. Don’t worry about it.  
GG: no tell me more!!! why do you feel drawn towards the stars?? :o  


She types out something vague that shifts to a different subject, concealing her embarrassment at her reverie being caught. She looks at the words for a moment before deleting them, remembering Jade’s honesty. At the very least she could express something genuine to her friend.

TT: They remind me of breathing holes cut into a box. When I’m in a place without them, I feel as if my lungs are struggling for air.  
GG: ooooo  
GG: i sorta get that! not with stars particularly but space as a whole is just so vast… it makes me feel small but in a good way!  
GG: like, im small compared to infinity but so is everyone else you know???  
GG: we are all just tiny things but even if our perspectives are small its our entire world!!!  
TT: Yes. Perception is reality so on and so forth.  
GG: :)  
GG: rose  
TT: Hm?  
GG: sorry for upsetting you earlier :(  
GG: i know you dont wanna talk about it but i wanted to apologize  
GG: i dont think youre mad at me but just in case… yeah  
TT: It’s OK.  


Rose thinks about her mom, gone off somewhere like most nights. About how she only has three friends and none of them are people she has spoken to in person. _By choice,_ she reminds herself, but it feels hollow.

GG: this is a little embarrassing but i brought it up initially because we’re so different i was hoping we could talk about something we had in common!!  
GG: but i guess not and thats fine too :)

Rose rereads these last few messages. Something is wrong.

TT: It’s okay if it’s not fine.  
GG: :???  
TT: You’re allowed to not be happy with how things are.  
TT: You’re even allowed to be mad at me.  
TT: And let me be clear, it’s not because I’m allowing you, it’s because you already have that autonomy, I’m just reminding you.  
TT: We’re not going to leave you alone if you get upset. At least, I’m not going to leave you, and I’ll hunt down the boys myself if they try to.  
GG: oh  
GG: thanks rose :)

Sometimes Rose _really_ hates online messaging. She wishes she could see Jade, to look into her eyes and make sure she understands. But this will have to do.

GG: it goes the other way around too!  
GG: im not going to think youre weak or incapable because you have emotions  
GG: so… dont be afraid to share them if youre comfortable alright?!

Rose’s first instinct is to be defensive. To proclaim that she has no issues she can’t conquer on her own. But she forces her fingers to wait before typing. Jade didn’t insult her. She just… offered a hand. And maybe Rose isn’t going to take it right now, but that doesn’t mean she has to bite it. She thinks about the toddler and the mother with the cookie jar again, and then of all the almost-clones in her dream. Rose realizes none of them are _her._ Yes they may look similar to her, but they’re different. All of them are different.

She realizes there’s no paragonal image in her mind of who Rose Lalonde; the girl who got found out by Jade Harley, hears ear static, and loves the stars and the humid summer air; is. Carrying the laptop with her, she walks over to her mirror. Violet eyes stare back. She runs a hand down her face, feeling her pores and dry patches. A hand. An open invitation. Not a command, but an opportunity. Balancing her laptop open in one hand, she types her response with the other. Just one word, but heavy with her own interpretation and intentions. Hopefully, Jade can see Rose’s thoughts bleeding through.

TT: Alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I wish this had come out longer, but I think it's still pretty good for what it is, and I hope you enjoyed! I always appreciate comments & kudos!


End file.
